


Merry Christmas, Kingsman Agents

by SherlockianonFire



Series: Leaves and Coffees [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:56:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9068608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianonFire/pseuds/SherlockianonFire
Summary: Drabbles set about Christmas memories of our knights





	

To James - Advents.

He was told that he learnt to count way to early when a baby. His father was brightly proud of his son’s intelligence. His mother said it was for the vibrant colors and the candies hidden behind every number of the calendar.

He would never know the real reason, but in his adulthood he would make his own Advent calendars year after year, and he would add a phrase about Christmas or a candy for the sour spirits.

He liked the waiting number after number, night after night, not for the presents, but for the people; some running from one place to another getting the most expensive gifts, others seemed totally unaffected by the loving spirit of Christmas.

He loved the smile in his colleagues’ faces, especially of Percival and Galahad, taking the candies, leaving the cards, because even if they said they were adults, for James they were kids just like him.

***

To Percival - Cookies

The smell of the newly baked cookies, the trilogy of colors, fueled his mood. He could remember himself seated at the kitchen table, swinging his feet without reaching the floor, impatient to put a cookie in his mouth and wait for the icing to melt, the anise lingering in his lips, having a green or red tongue, cleaning the cookie crumbs from his favorite shirt and bowtie.

He could remember the silver hair of his grandmother humming Joy To The World while telling him not to eat the warm cookies from the oven.

The sweetest of memories from his childhood, the same that comes back through his nose when he smells the kitchen of his apartment on Christmas Eve, the same apartment that his friends from Kingsman have decided to invade, the same friends that cannot wait for the cookies to be ready.

He would never forget the laughter of the old kitchen, he would never forget the laughter of his old friends in his new kitchen.

***

To Roxy - St Nicholas Day

The shoes on the foyer, that was what his older brother said, but there is… nothing, nothing at all. He lied to her, she would tell her mother… she wanted to cry. The boys were so mean to her at times, but they were her older brothers and she had to be obedient, they meant no harm. Still, there was nothing in her shoes, Saint Nicholas wasn’t real.

She whined the whole morning, even during breakfast. Mom and Dad were so ashamed of the prank their older child had played on the youngest. Even worse, he wasn’t home to tell her it was a joke or a mistake, he was with the Army forces. She would never forgive him, not even waiting for Christmas to come.

After a few days, the crying had stopped, but she refused to show herself at the hall, avoiding the foyer with all her will. She had little hopes for Christmas, if Saint Nicholas didn’t come to fill her shoes with candies and golden coins, he wouldn’t be there to deliver any present either.

On the 25th December, however, she ran to the door looking for any clue of the big red visitor. Her dreams were not crashed this time. A box wrapped on a bright green paper with a white and red ribbon had a card with her name on it.

Inside, a package of candies and some chocolate golden coins was the first thing she saw; at the bottom of the box a pair of red patent leather slippers caught her eyes. 

A brief note in his brother’s handwriting said: ‘I’m so sorry, Saint Nicholas was confused about the house the first time.’

She wore those slippers the whole year.

Now as an adult, she had a stiletto pair of the same color.

***

To Eggsy - Peppermints

It was fresh and cold. He would remember that forever. He could remember that and more.

He was maybe four or even less, but he would never forget the day his dad ate happily a peppermint cane and let him tried some without his mom noticing. He made a strange face at first, because of the fresh sensation in his throat, it was like if he was eating dry ice and his tongue stung a bit, but the sweetness was enough for him to ask for more.

He remembered the fresh breath of his father’s that felt warm, instead of cold, on his cheek. How something that fresh was warm as the sun in the morning? He would never know, but in his infinite innocence, he promised to himself to ask his father one day in the future.

The days that came after that are a blur, but that day felt real every time a peppermint candy touched his lips. 

Always around Christmas he would carry a cane in the inner pocket of his jacket suit, for Daisy or Roxy, or some peppermint candies for Percy or Merlin, or even for Harry if he decided to come back one day, just like his father left one cold and fresh day around Christmas, many years ago.

***

To Harry - Christmas Carols

When young he would pretend he was a knight fighting against dragons, rescuing imprisoned maidens from high towers listening to The Carol of the Bells. It was his war song .

He always wondered why people didn’t listen to it during the rest of the year, but ‘that is ridiculous’ his father had said once, when he played the song in April. Christmas had long passed, but not the fire that the carol ignited on his young soul.

In the Christmases that followed, it was the first carol he sang by the fire place, and if he wasn’t good at singing, that was a mere detail. He would listen to it on repeat to encourage himself when needed it.

In his adulthood’s Decembers, he would go to church to hear it from the angelical voices of the choir, and still in that sacred place, he would feel his rampant heart ready to fight as in his tender years by the fireplace.

And in the cold nights away from home, he would hum the ding dong ding dong to stay alive, keeping in his mind the warm of his mother’s arms around his little body on the Christmas Eve and the soothing voice of his father’s against his fluffy hair.

Ding dong ding dong

That is their song

With joyful ring

All caroling.

***

To Merlin - Stockings

His first memory is the wool of the stockings given to him by his granny, soft and warm on his tiny feet. They were special, made of raw wool, dyed in a terracotta red and a yellow green.

He would play around the house with them, not willing to take them off. He made a fuss when his mother had to wash them; he would hide them from her.   
In the passing years, he would ask his granny to give him a new pair and when she could no longer knit, he would try his best to do them himself.

After Kingsman recruited him, he followed the tradition of knitting for Harry a pair in dyed grey hues, one for Percival in blue, even if he didn’t want it, and some extras for Lancelot, because he demanded a scarf too.

The stockings in the fireplace were tradition, and he did his best to keep it, without the blessing of his boss, but it was Christmas and he ruled HQ; it was his home, and the agents his family.

He did not longer knit, he doubt it he would do it in the future. At least he thought that until Roxy and Eggsy came around.

On the first Christmas of the new agents, a new knitted scarf of raw woo, with blue and silver coloring waited for him at his seat in his office, a present from the new Galahad.


End file.
